


Ten Alternate Universes: Ford Prefect

by DaibhidC



Category: Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy - Douglas Adams, The Culture - Iain M. Banks
Genre: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - School, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Alternate Universe - Space, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Western, Gen, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-19
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2019-01-17 19:32:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12372528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaibhidC/pseuds/DaibhidC
Summary: The challenge: "Give me a character/pairing and I will write snippets of ten different alternate universes for it."The universes: Wild West, Cyberpunk, Shapeshifters, Pirates, ...In SPACE!!, Born Another Gender, Schoolfic, Police/Firefighters, Urban Fantasy, Steampunk.The character: Ford Prefect





	Ten Alternate Universes: Ford Prefect

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JohnAmendAll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/gifts).



**Wild West**

“We don’t get many strangers at the Pink Dog Saloon,” the tough looking hombre growled.

“Really?” asked Ford, looking around, “I can’t imagine why not. Very … atmospheric.” He moseyed up to the bar. “Anything that has more alcohol than is probably wise,” he ordered.

Between his accent and his clothing – a derby hat and a somewhat mismatched three-piece suit, just a little wider and louder than the fashions back east – the regulars had the newcomer pegged as a dude. And if there was one thing they hated more than strangers, it was greenhorn strangers.

“Gonna need to see your money first,” said the bartender, without looking up.

“Ah. Okay, I don’t exactly have much cash at the moment. But I’m good for it, just as soon as my latest assignment comes through…”

“You know what we do to strangers who can’t pay their way?”

“Well, no,” admitted Ford, “In fact, I suspect most people don’t. Would you like them to?”

“Huh?”

Very carefully, so everyone could see he wasn’t pulling a gun or a knife, Ford reached into the pocket of his checked waistcoat and produced two items. One was a battered copy of a dime novel. The other was a card reading:

F. PREFECT  
-WRITER-  
_ZANE ZARNIWOOP’S WESTERN WEEKLY_  
H2 PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK

“If you want people to know how dangerous this place is, let’s talk.”

 

**Cyberpunk**

“It’s called _The Netrunner’s Guide to Cyberspace_ ”, Ford explained, “It’s an up-to-the-femtosecond, constantly updating wikistream of all the cybernodes in the datasphere.”

“Gosh,” said Arthur, “What does it say about the Anglorealm?” He called it up.

“ _One word_? England’s entire data footprint, thousands of nodes, summed up in _one word_?”

Ford blinked. “There,” he said, “I’ve increased the amount of memory the _Guide_ has assigned to the Anglorealm by nearly 100%. Can’t say fairer than that.”

 

**Shapeshifters**

“Ford,” said Arthur, “Has the Infinite Improbability thing been switched back on?”

Ford looked over to where Zaphod and Trillian were arguing with Eddie. “Don’t think so,” he said.

“Then I can only assume that you really _are_ turning into a penguin this time.”

Ford looked down at himself and shrugged. “It happens.”

 

**Pirates**

“Ford! Ford, wake up!”

Ford reluctantly opened his eyes. His head was pounding. “Oh, Arthur, thank goodness. I dreamt we’d been captured by pirates.”

“We were. You challenged their captain to a rum-drinking contest.”

“That … certainly sounds like something I’d do. Did I win?”

Arthur looked round. “Well, you’ve regained consciousness and he hasn’t, so I’d say so, yes.”

 

**…In SPACE!!**

“My name is … well, in your terms, it’s something like Betelgeuse-Betelgeuse-Sevensa Ix Ford Prefect Beeblebrox dam Praxi. I’m a reporter.”

“For this … _Guide_.”

“Yes. It’s a voice-activated computerised reference text with millions of pages accessed through the Sub-Etha…” he trailed off, uncertain about the look he was getting.

“Amazing,” said the Culture representative, “A society so primitive, they still think electronic books are a pretty neat idea.”

 

**Born Another Gender**

“Ford, this is Trillian, hi,” said Zaphod, “Trillian, this is my quasi-niece Ford who has three of the same mothers as me, hi. Zaphod Beeblebrox, this is a very large drink, hi.”

Arthur stared at Ford, “Sorry, did he just say quasi- _niece_?”

“If that’s how the babel fish translated it to you, then yes.”

Arthur continued staring at Ford, “Then you’re…”

Ford rolled hir eyes. “Not even as simple as that, I’m afraid. Poor old Earthman and his culture shock, eh?”

 

**Schoolfic**

“You must be Dent,” said the older boy, “I’m Prefect.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Arthur, “What’s your name?”

“I just told you.”

Arthur frowned. “No you didn’t, you just said you were a prefect.”

“Not _a_ prefect, just Prefect.”

“Is this one of those school slang things? Prefect doesn’t have an ‘a’ here?”

“No, my _name’s_ Prefect. I’m definitely not _a_ prefect.” He laughed. “There’s no way Mr van Harl would ever make _me_ a prefect! Not after he banned me from working on the student magazine.”

“Why, what did you put in the student magazine?”

“Everything.”

 

**Police/Firefighters**

“It’s another incident, same as the last three, sir,” reported DC Dent, “Forensics say there were at least two men involved in the attack, armed with cricket bats.”

“You know, DCI Bartfast is still on us to solve this case,” Inspector Prefect said, without moving from his precariously balanced chair.

“Well, yes sir. It’s our job.”

“But _why_ is it our job?” Prefect demanded, suddenly jumping to his feet. “When you live in a world where deranged cricketers go around killing people, what’s the point of it? Whatever drives them to do this, I don’t understand it, and if I don’t understand it, how can I solve it? So the most rational course of action is to go to the pub.”

DC Dent was unsure how to react to this, but was spared having to do so by his mobile ringing. He listened for a while, then said “Yes, Sarge,” and hung up.

“That was DS Macmillan. She caught the whole gang, sir. Just routine police work, she said.”

“There you are, Constable. All that fuss from the Chief Inspector, and the case was solved without our involvement. Once again, the most rational course of action is to go to the pub.”

 

**Urban Fantasy**

“Arthur, how would you react if I said I wasn’t from Guilford, but from an alternate dimension you would probably refer to as the Land of Faerie?”

“I don’t know. Why, do you think it’s the sort of thing you’re likely to say?”

Ford sighed. “We just stopped a troll tearing down your house, at least temporarily. I think a more open mind might be advisable in the circumstances.”

 

**Steampunk**

The _Heart of Orichalcum_ was the finest submersible ever built. While Prefect might question his cousin’s wisdom in stealing it, he certainly couldn’t fault the man’s taste.

“So where are we going, old chap?” he asked.

“Why, to Atlantis, of course! Where else would gentleman adventurers take a submersible?”

“Then I have but one question. Is there any tea on this vessel?”

“Again, Ford, gentleman adventurers. Of course there is.”


End file.
